


I Don't Know How to Say Goodbye

by bluemadridista



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Beaches, Boys Kissing, Established Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Leaving Home, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mild Language, Tags Are Hard, as sad california beachy guys, going off to college actually, sort of it's still rated T i think, yuwin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemadridista/pseuds/bluemadridista
Summary: In which Yuwin are cute boyfriends in Cali trying to spend one night together before Sicheng leaves for college.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	I Don't Know How to Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had previously posted this as a Noren fic because I made the mistake of asking Twitter for their opinions. I love my Twitter followers, but I should have gone with advice of my amazing, wonderful beta reader and left it as the beautiful Yuwin fic that it became, so here it is as she beautifully beta'd it!
> 
> Title is a lyric from "Wrapped Around Your Finger" by 5 Seconds of Summer. This song inspired the whole fic and I listened to it approximately 3,842 times whilst writing this. If you haven't heard it, [check it out.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGeWGVeYBCg) This said, this is not a songfic! The lyrics just inspired the vibe. Actually the vibes of a lot of 5sos went into the fic, but primarily that one!

Sicheng shifts in bed, his mind and his vision hazy. He had just started to drift off to sleep when he heard…

Rain?

Hail?

He scrubs at his eyes as he sits up in bed. The clock on his bedside table – a glaring red menace – reads 12:00 AM. Not so late, but he had a big day today, has a big day tomorrow... a big life ahead of him, a  _ new  _ life, a new school.

College.

Fuck.

He hears the sound again, like rain or small hailstones pelting his window. But… He blinks and stares through the sheer curtains that blocked out almost nothing – another pointless purchase his mother insisted would “liven up” his room. All the fancy, sheer curtains did was let in way more light when he was trying to sleep in than his old white blinds had.

The sky outside is clear – moon shining bright, a blanket of stars twinkling. No rain. No hail.

Another tick against his window.

He swings his legs off the side of his bed, slides his feet into his slippers, and shuffles to the window.

Another tick. A pebble smacking the glass, nicking the glass. His mom is going to shit.

He opens the window and leans out over the small faux balcony. He has always wanted to make it a little study/zoning out space, but his mother made it clear that it’s just for the aesthetic.

The aesthetic and easier sneaking out. But she doesn’t know about that. What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Yuta stands in his backyard, a few feet from the pool where they made out earlier that day, made out like they might never see each other again. They might not.

New York is all the way on the other side of the country. Yuta is a California kid. He’s not going anywhere.

Sicheng is bound for NYU in the morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sicheng whisper shouts.

“Throwing rocks at my boyfriend’s window. What the hell are  _ you  _ doing?”

Sicheng wonders how long he’ll be his boyfriend. How long until sweet Yuta loses interest. He’s never had the longest attention span. “Sleeping? It’s midnight.”

“What self-respecting eighteen-year-old goes to sleep at midnight?”

“One that has a flight to New York at eight in the morning.”

“That’s eight hours away, man. Get down here. Let’s go to the beach.”

The beach. The great love of Yuta’s life.

Second only to Sicheng.

Or was Sicheng second only to the beach? Sicheng was the one worried about losing him, after all. The beach would always have Yuta.

Sicheng pulled a hand through his hair. “Yuta, I have a flight…”

“I’ll have you back in time for your flight.”

“And what about sleep?”

“Sleep is for the weak. Come on! The beach is calling! Can’t you hear it?”

Sicheng glanced past Yuta. He thought he could hear the distant sound of waves lapping at the sand.

All he had to do was climb onto the balcony, down the tree…

They’d done this a million times. Through Sicheng’s backyard, running down the dirt path, the sand path, past the little shack that has no use anymore, past the lifeguard stand where no one guards anything, to Yuta’s beloved beach.

“Sicheng! Please!”

Sicheng ducks back into his room. This is fucking stupid. He doesn’t have time for the beach.

He tells himself this as he tugs on a pair of jeans, throws on an old t-shirt – Yuta’s old t-shirt, actually. Fuck, it smells like him. This is coming to New York.

He stuffs his phone into his back pocket, slides bare feet into tattered pink low-top Converse.

“I don’t have time for this,” he grunts as his feet hit the grass beneath his favorite climbing tree. He and Yuta climbed it for the first time in kindergarten. Got stuck. Screamed at the top of their lungs until Sicheng’s adoptive father came running.

Yuta just stares at him for a moment and then his usual dorky grin actually slips for a second. “This was… Do you want to go back to bed? You do have a flight… in the morning.”

Sicheng knows that he should climb back up the tree and try to get as much sleep as he can before his mother invades his room to be sure he’s ready to go to the airport. He should do that, but the moonlight is shining on Yuta and his heart aches.

He loves him like Yuta loves the beach.

Like Yuta loves him.

“Fuck off. I already climbed all the way down,” he says, taking Yuta’s hand and guiding him out of the backyard.

They stroll slowly until they close the back gate behind them. Then, they take off.

The soles of their Converse thud softly against the dirt as they race to the beach.

Yuta makes it there first, just slightly ahead of Sicheng. Kicking off his shoes, sand flying everywhere.

His jeans go next. Sicheng ducks when he whips them behind him and they almost slap Sicheng in the face.

“Watch it!” he shouts.

Yuta looks behind him. The grin is back, locked into place on his angular face like it won’t ever leave.

Good fuck, Sicheng will miss that grin.

“Why are you still wearing so many clothes?” Yuta asks, and his shirt goes flying over his head. If Yuta could get away with it, he would live in swimming trunks and boxer shorts.

“I never said I was going to get naked.”

“I didn’t ask you to, you degenerate. But the ocean is literally right there and I’m getting in it. If you want to go in wearing jeans and a… Is that my shirt?”

“Maybe.”

“Fucking thief.”

Sicheng tugs the shirt off over his head and tosses it at Yuta. “Have it back,” he says, hoping to God that Yuta doesn’t actually take it back.

“And leave you naked for your flight? What kind of jerk would I be?”

“The kind of jerk who calls their boyfriend a ‘fucking thief.’”

“To be fair, you stole my shirt.”

“You left it at my house and I never returned it. That’s not really theft. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“Did you change your major to pre-law?”

Sicheng scoffs. “My parents would love that.” Getting into one of the best art schools in the country was still “just art school.”

“Fuck that. You’re going to be the best artist in the world. That is, if you take your pants off and come swim with me! Otherwise, I’m going to tackle you to the ground, and I can’t guarantee you won’t break something vital to art making.”

Sicheng can’t argue with that. He should be able to, but he can never argue with Yuta. Obviously. He’s here, after all, having climbed out of a window, and followed Yuta to the beach at midnight. “You better run, Yuta,” he says, dropping his pants.

“What are you gonna do, Sicheng?”

Sicheng steps out of his pants and starts toward him. Yuta shrieks and takes off running toward the ocean.

He walks slowly, watching the sand fly around Yuta’s clomping feet, listening to his stupid pterodactyl shrieks.

Fuck, he would miss this. There were beaches in New York, but not like this. Not beaches he actually wanted to run barefoot on.

And New York doesn’t have Yuta.

“What are you doing?! I’m running away from you and you’re just poking along like my grandmother!"

Sicheng darts toward him then, chasing him into the water while Yuta shrieks so loud that Sicheng wonders if anyone will hear him. The closest houses are on his block and they’re not  _ that _ close.

What would his parents do if they woke up to the sound of his idiot boyfriend screaming and found his bed empty? He’s off to school in the morning but it’s “just art school,” so maybe they wouldn’t even care.

“Where are you?” A wave of water slaps Sicheng in the face when Yuta splashes him.

He snaps back to focus. “Here at the beach with you, asshole!” he shouts, splashing Yuta. Yuta bounces away, squealing and laughing.

Always carefree.

They splash and chase each other around in the shallow water, Yuta hooting and hollering like an idiot. Sicheng laughs at him, tries to lose himself in Yuta’s carefree vibe, tries to just be here.

Here, on the beach, in the water, on their last night together.

“It’s not that deep,” Yuta had said that afternoon as they lay side by side on inflatables in his pool. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten. Friends since you moved here from China, man. We’ve been dating since grade nine! You’re not just going to fuck off to NYU and lose me. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You can't get rid of me that easily.”

“Let’s swim out to the buoys.”

Sicheng shakes his head. “Not in the middle of the night. You’re out of your mind.”

“Swim with me a little at least.”

“We swam this afternoon.”

“In your pool! It’s not the same.” Yuta flops over to him, kicking up water and nearly tripping more than once. He takes Sicheng’s hands in his. “This is the Pacific, Sicheng. They don’t have this in New York.”

“Funny how geography works, huh?”

“Oh, shut up, shithead! You were the one yelling about this being our  _ last day together _ . Fucking swim with me.”

That’s so on brand for Yuta that Sicheng, of course, can’t argue with him. Of course, Yuta would want to spend their last hours swimming in the ocean.

“I’m not swimming out to the buoys. It’s too far!” he shouts when Yuta keeps getting further and further from the beach.

He thinks he can trick him, thinks he’ll follow him anywhere.

Sicheng wishes they could follow each other anywhere.

“I’m going back to the shore!”

“I can make it!” Yuta shouts. He’s so far away. Really, it’s only a few feet, but in the ocean, in the middle of the night, it’s a million miles.

Like New York will be. Tomorrow and for the next four years. More if he goes to grad school, more if he gets an internship, a job.

“Yuta, don’t! Come on. It’s late. Let’s go.”

“No!”

“Why the fuck did you drag me out of bed if you’re just going to leave me?”

Yuta turns around faster than Sicheng thought possible in the deep water. “You’re the one leaving, not me!”

This is Yuta, so he’s probably speaking literally about this moment, Sicheng leaving him to go to the buoys while he heads back to the beach. But it hits him hard.

“I’m sorry!” he screams. “I’m sorry, alright! It’s just fucking art school, but I have to go. I have to leave.”

Yuta says nothing, just starts to swim again, back to Sicheng this time.

Sicheng stands in chest-deep water, salty tears mixing with the salty sea water on his face.

Yuta wraps him in his arms, tugs him to his chest, crushes their bodies together. “I know,” he whispers into Sicheng’s wet hair. “Of course, you have to leave.”

“Don’t you care?” Yuta might not have noticed the tears but he can't miss the cracking in his voice.

“That’s a dumb question. You’re everything to me.”

“Then, why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you tell me to apply to a West Coast school?” He shoves him, propels himself back toward the beach.

“Because I’m not an asshole!” Yuta wades behind him. “You got into the school you’ve been drooling over for years, one of the best in the country, and no one gives a shit. It’s not  _ just art school _ , Sicheng, and it pisses me off when you say that. It’s the fucking best school and you’re going to be amazing. I would never tell you not to go.”

Still in ankle-deep water, Sicheng stops walking, turns back to him. “Then why won’t you come with me?”

“I… I can’t.”

“Why not? You always say you don’t care what school you go to. I know you love the beach and the ocean but…”

“I’m not a creative genius like you, dude. I can’t get into NYU.”

“NYU isn’t just art school, Yuta. You could…”

“I’m not a genius period, Sicheng. I can’t get into that school.”

“There are other…”

“I’m not going to college, Sicheng. I’m taking a year off, at least. Maybe more. Maybe forever.”

“What, why?”

“I didn’t get into the best school ever like you and that’s alright with me. But I don’t see a big rush to go to community college, you know?”

Sicheng nods. He can’t imagine he’d feel the urgency he does for his flight in the morning if he were flying off to a community college. There’s nothing wrong with them at all. They’re just more laid-back by nature. No risk of losing your spot, no waiting list. Fewer options too, lesser degrees.

Sicheng goes to him, kisses him, whispers apologies that are quickly swallowed by his lips.

They kiss for ages, making out again like they’ll never see each other again.

_ It’s not that deep _ . But what if it is? What if they never see each other again?

They’re lying side by side on the beach a while later, having just done a lot more than making out, more than they’ve ever done at the beach. Sicheng’s chest rises and falls, exhaustion nearly overwhelming him. He really should have slept.

Yuta stirs after a few minutes, places a hand on his stomach, kisses his chest gently. He’s over him then, staring down into his eyes. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Sicheng nods, as best as he can with his head lying in the sand, but asks, “What if we’re not?”

“We will be!” He recites his practiced spiel about being friends since kindergarten, dating since grade 9, like that means anything. People fall apart all the time.

“Well, we won’t!” Yuta snaps and Sicheng hadn’t even realized he’d said that last bit aloud. “I love you, you idiot, and I’m stubborn as hell. You think I’m just going to give up or let you give up.” Yuta sits up beside him and Sicheng quickly does the same.

“It’s not about giving up. We’ll be in different time zones and…”

“Oh, dear. Different time zones. Three whole hours apart. It’s not Jupiter, Sicheng. It’s New York. You think I won’t visit you somehow? Call, Facetime, whatever. You think your parents are going to let you stay in New York for holidays, for any break you happen to get?”

He has a point here. He’s probably right. About everything. Everyone thinks he’s an idiot because he’s hopelessly optimistic and always carefree, but he’s almost always right about everything.

Still, Sicheng just says, “We’re eighteen.”

“And next year, we’ll be  _ nineteen _ ? What’s your point? I know it’s not that we’re too young to be in love for the long haul, because I’ve been in love with you since I was like twelve. I know it can’t be that, so I assume you’re just stating our age, for the record, your honor. You really should be a lawyer.”

Sicheng has to laugh at that. “Alright, alright. Are you just going to bully me into optimism?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to not dump me before you fly off to New York.”

“I’m not going to dump you before I fly to New York.”

“No calling me from New York to dump me either. Unless you don’t love me anymore which is ridiculous because I’m awesome.”

“You’re the best. I can’t imagine not loving you.”

“Then, stop being dramatic. We will be fine.” Yuta reaches over and takes his hand in his. “More than fine. We’ll be great. Hot beach guy. His hot artist boyfriend. Unstoppable.”

Sicheng laces their fingers together. “Just don’t forget that when you’re being a hot beach guy with other hot beach guys.”

“There are no other hot beach guys. What about the other hot art guys?”

“Not my type. I like beachy guys with goofy grins and good relationship logic.”

“Oh, nice.” Yuta leans in to kiss him. “I love you more than there are miles between here and New York City, okay?”

Sicheng nods in lieu of a verbal response because he’d rather kiss him than talk.

And they’re kissing again, like they had earlier, like they had in his pool. Making out… But not like they won’t see each other again.

This isn’t their last night together. It’s not the last time they’ll ever see each other.

It’s just the last time for a while, for a bit.

He can wait. They can wait.

They kiss, they make out and then some. Sicheng is so glad it’s dark and no one else is stupid enough to be at the beach this late because he doesn’t want to have to worry about someone seeing them naked.

After, they run into the water to wash off the sand and Yuta insists they swim out to the buoys. It’s stupid, especially given that they’re naked, but it’s the last time he’ll be in the ocean for a while and it’s Yuta. So, of course, he does it.

They swim and swim. He doesn’t even remember how far it is from the beach. 

It seems so far, but not far enough. He wants to spend forever swimming in the ocean with Yuta. He’s exhausted, but exhilarated. His body is vibrating when they return to the beach. He feels like he’s had too much espresso but also desperately needs another.

Yuta is all grins, so chill, ever the optimist.

They get dressed as the sun starts to peek out.

“I’m so fucked,” Sicheng mutters as he pulls his jeans up over his wet boxer briefs.

“Sorry about that but you’re so hot…”

“NOT what I meant!” He swats Yuta with his t-shirt, Yuta’s t-shirt, before he slides it over his head. It smells so much like him. This will help in New York. This will stop him missing him.

“It’s almost six,” Yuta says, glancing at his phone.

“How did we spend so much time out here? It barely felt like we were together at all.”

“We were together as much as two men can be, but…”

“NOT what I meant!”

Yuta snorts. “I know, I know, but I’m not about to be as gloomy as you are.”

“That’s because you get to go home and sleep. I have to go home and get yelled at by my mother before I’m dragged off to the airport to fly across the country to miss my boyfriend.”

“To be fair, you get to do other things while you miss me. You don’t have to miss me the whole time. Meanwhile, here I’ll be…”

Sicheng slips on his shoes and goes to Yuta, still shirtless, kicking sand into his shoes for some reason. “Come with me.” He grabs hold of his wrists. “You can come and get a job and live with me and…”

“No. I can’t.” His smile is there, but it seems forced. Has it ever been forced before? “I’m a California boy! I belong here. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“I’ll come back.”

“I know you will. How can you resist me?”

He kisses him then, hard, filled with all of the passion and the pain that comes with leaving the one you love.

Yuta pushes him back after a minute. “You should get back.”

“Will you walk me back?”

“Probably best if I didn’t. Your parents are liable to kill me, and we had our goodbyes all day.”

“And all night.”

“Right.”

Sicheng steals another quick kiss and races off up the beach. When he reaches the sandy path, he turns back, expecting to see Yuta staring after him, but his back is turned. He’s sitting on the beach, staring out at the sunrise.

And he’s right. He’s a California boy, a beach guy. This is where he’s meant to be, and New York, art school, is where Sicheng is meant to be, but he’ll be back. The beach will call him back to Yuta.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! A fanfic author's greatest treasures are COMMENTS! I know sometimes it is intimidating to leave a comment, but I swear to you, all authors cherish them! It's what keeps up writing. Even if it something short and sweet, leave it! Thank you! Kudos are also good, so hit that button too!
> 
> But seriously - comment. Right now. Feedback is loved and cherished forever and always.
> 
> Hmu on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ames_kpopfics) for fic updates, polls, and nonsense NCT retweets. And sometimes just nonsense. It's a fun time, come have a chat! Send me pics of your bias. Send me pics of your otp. Let's be friends!


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